A GARDEN SCENE.
Meanwhile, the moon had risen high in the heavens. Through the lofty
tree-tops, her beams formed the most curiously shaped and fantastic
silhouettes, which, under the influence of the cool night-breeze,
seemed to drive one another up and down in endless chase along
the bright yellow paths, and the velvety lawns. Here and there, the
moonlight fell through groups of Tjemara trees, which, with their long
needle-like foliage, greatly resemble our larches, and thus had, as
it were, to pass through a network of the finest lace. Nothing could
be more weird, and, to a poetic eye, more pleasing, than these strange
patches of sifted light, which cast no shadows, and offered so great a
contrast to the calm white radiance around, that they looked like the
mysterious rings in which elves and fairies hold their nightly revels.
This night, however, the otherwise so quiet garden offered a most
animated spectacle. On all sides, in the avenues, under the trees, on
the lawns, were scattered about merry groups of young men and girls,
and many more sedate parties also of older people, all thoroughly
enjoying the fresh balmy air, and, after the heat and glare of the
crowded ball-rooms, finding relief in the cool breeze and pleasant
moonlight.
After the waltz was over, the band had struck up a fantasia on airs
from La Traviata. As the picolo and the cornet began the well-known
duet of the first act in which Alfred and Violetta declare their
mutual love, and where the music so eloquently interprets the words:
"Un jour l'âme ravie,
Je vous vis si jolie,
Que je vous crus sortie
Du céleste séjour.
Etait-ce donc un ange, une femme,
Qui venait d'embraser mon âme?
Las! je ne sais encor ... mais depuis ce beau jour,
Je sais que j'aime d'un pur amour."
Van Nerekool's arm stole round the waist of his dear Anna, as he led
her into a thick grove of Pandan, under whose heavy and broad foliage
they might hope, for a few moments, to escape from the observation
of those around them.
"Now, my own dearest Anna," said he, "now that we are alone, let
me repeat the words which, yonder in the midst of all those people,
and with all those eyes fixed upon us, I could but whisper."
The young girl hung trembling all over on her lover's arm.
"Anna, my darling, I love you; I love you more dearly than my words can
express, more dearly than my mother, than my sister, more dearly than
myself. As I am by your side, I can dream of nothing but happiness,
to breathe the same air that you breathe is bliss indeed. O darling
Anna, let me tell you again and again how dearly, how faithfully,
I love you!"
The strong man clasped the girl to his breast, and she hid her head
on his shoulder.
"Tell me, Anna," he continued, passionately, "tell me, do you feel
some such love for me? Do you love me, dearest? I know I have already
had your answer, but repeat that word once again now that we are here
alone, now that we are here far from the noise of the world, repeat
that little word now as we are standing under the eye of God himself."
He drew the young girl still more closely to him, as he bowed his head
down to her lips to listen. She closed her eyes, and then, blending
with the wondrous soughing of the breeze in the Tjemara trees, softly
and melodiously the magic syllable fell from her lips.
He all but uttered a cry of joy, and, bending his head still deeper
down towards her, he whispered in trembling accents, "Dearest one,
now let me set the seal to my vows of true and faithful love;" and,
before Anna had time to utter a word, their lips met, and then, with
one long, ardent kiss, they closed the band which, for this transitory
world, was to hold their hearts and lives inseparably united.
Thus for a few moments they stood in fond embrace, gazing at
one another with joy ineffable, while high above them the broad
Pandan-leaves were gently waving and sheltering them under their
friendly shade, and the wind sighing to the Tjemaras wafted to them
from yonder distance the sweet strains of melody which again and
again seemed to say:
"... Mais depuis ce beau jour,
Je sais que j'aime d'un pur amour."
Those brief moments of rapture were indeed, for the happy pair of
lovers, an ever-memorable page in the book of their life; the fairest
page, no doubt, and the happiest. Soon, too soon, they were to be
roughly shaken out of their blissful dream.
"Anna!" cried a loud voice, "Matilda Meidema is looking for you
everywhere. Where can you have got to, my child?"
It was the voice of Anna's mother Laurentia, which suddenly startled
our lovers out of their ecstasy. At a single glance the sharp-sighted
woman had taken in the whole scene; but she betrayed no surprise,
and, in the most winning manner, continued: "I left Matilda, only
a moment ago, by yonder bed of roses--if you will follow this path,
you can't help meeting her."
And, as her daughter stood irresolute:
"Oh," said she, "you need not be anxious; Mr. van Nerekool will be
kind enough to offer me his arm, so you see you will not leave him
sorrowing and utterly forsaken. Make haste."
These words uttered in the most friendly tone, yet so full of sarcasm,
dismayed the young girl utterly, and caused her to hurry away with
sad forebodings.
"And now, Mr. van Nerekool," said Mrs. van Gulpendam, somewhat loftily,
to the young man. "Now, it is our turn, will you kindly offer me
your arm?"
Without a word, and with a courtly bow, van Nerekool complied; but
he felt sick at heart, as though he had committed some crime.
"Come," said she, "we will walk up this avenue of Tjemaras, it is
lighter here and not so mysteriously dark as in that horrid Pandan
grove. True, I don't suppose you will have to tell me such pretty
tales as you were just now whispering to Anna, Fie, Mr. van Nerekool,
that was hardly a loyal action on your part, I must say--"
Charles cast his eye on the woman who was leaning on his arm, and
who, so calmly and with so musical a voice, signified her maternal
disapprobation. They had come forth from the Pandan grove, so that the
moonlight, shining full upon the perfect form of her snowy bosom, which
a thin tulle handkerchief only nominally protected from the night air,
imparted to her person an indescribably fascinating appearance. As
though dazzled at the sight, the young man, for a single instant,
closed his eyes; and when he opened them again, he found the deep,
dark gaze of the beautiful woman fixed full upon him. She seemed to
divine the impression which the view of her charms had, for a passing
moment, made upon the youthful and susceptible man. Her look seemed
to interrogate, and, at the same time, was encouraging.
"Madam," said Charles at length with a deep breath, as if he were
putting from him an unwelcome thought; "Madam, you were doubtless
surprised to find me walking with Miss Anna in this somewhat lonely
part of the garden--"
"Walking with her, yes,--and kissing her," said fair Laurentia,
completing the sentence.
"Well, yes," continued Charles, "and kissing her; but should you
perhaps think that we had purposely selected this spot, then--"
"Well, what then?" asked she, with a sly smile.
"Then you would be misjudging Miss Anna and myself."
"I considered," retorted Laurentia, somewhat sarcastically, "that
the spot was an admirable one--well-chosen for kissing."
"Yet it was the merest chance that brought us to it. Believe me,
before that moment,--or to speak more correctly,--before this evening,
not a word of love had ever passed between us."
"Oh, Mr. van Nerekool!" exclaimed Laurentia, with a mocking smile,
"that is quite incredible! Do you expect me to believe that two
young people of different sexes, should be kissing each other in an
out-of-the-way corner, if there had not previously been some words
of affection,--of love,--spoken between them--without, in fact,
any question of passion on either side?"
"And yet, madam, believe me, it is the perfect truth. I never tell
a lie," broke in Charles, with considerable vehemence.
"Aye, aye," said Laurentia, "I know all about it. I once was young
myself. Oh," continued the pleasure-loving woman, her voice falling at
the remembrance of that youth from which she was so loth to part. "Oh,
when I was nineteen, I was exactly what Anna is now--I was, as she is
now, a budding beauty, I had just as fresh and youthful feelings--I
was just as child-like and playful as she is."
Van Nerekool shuddered at this comparison of the daughter with
the mother.
"I was just as kind-hearted, just as lovable as she is. Oh believe me,"
continued she, excitedly, while she allowed her hand to lean on his
arm more heavily perhaps than was needful, and gave that arm a gentle
pressure. "Believe me, one need not have a very lively imagination
to see that Anna will be precisely like me."
For a moment she paused, as if she began to see that she was being
carried away by her subject.
"No doubt, madam," replied van Nerekool, gallantly, as he allowed his
eye to wander from the face of his fair companion to her shoulders,
to her bosom, to her feet. "No doubt, one may safely predict that Miss
Anna will, in charms and perfections, nearly come up to her mother."
"Pray, Mr. van Nerekool, no compliments," said Laurentia, with an
affected smile.
"But may I beg of you," continued he, "to let me know for what purpose
you drew the parallel? I do not quite see--"
Laurentia shook the wealth of curls which covered her neck and
descended to her shoulders. No, the simpleton whose arm she held,
did not understand her. That was plain enough. One thought of M`Bok
Kârijâh swiftly passed through her brain, and drew a sigh from her.
"Oh," she continued, while her bosom rose and fell quickly as she drew
breath more rapidly, "I merely meant to state that I was young once--"
"And you are young still," cried van Nerekool, politely.
"That a kiss has been snatched from me too," continued Laurentia,
with a smile of pleasure at the remembrance, "but that occurred in
open daylight, in the presence of my parents, and not in the darkness
of a Pandan grove."
"Now, madam," said van Nerekool, very seriously, "allow me, I pray
you, to tell you how it all happened. For about a twelvemonth I
have been visiting at your house. At first my visits were but rare,
of late they have become much more frequent. Now, you are a clever
woman and you cannot have failed to see the reason of this. I had made
the acquaintance of your daughter, and the more thoroughly I began to
appreciate her amiable and noble character, the more deeply did the
shaft which had struck me at my first visit, enter into my heart. How
shall I go on, madam--the simple truth is that soon I felt that at her
side only I could be truly happy. But;--though I ventured to hope that
Miss Anna had no aversion for me--and though I thought that I might
reckon upon your friendly aid also--yet I very soon began to notice
that I failed to gain the good-will of Mr. van Gulpendam. Indeed,
I may say, that he positively dislikes me. That feeling of dislike
he could not always repress, though he observed towards me the forms
of strict politeness; and, though I cannot complain of any purposely
inflicted slights, yet now and then his repugnance would show itself
in a manner which, to me, has been wholly unmistakable. This, in
some measure, discouraged me. Then again, I know that, as yet, my
income will not suffice to set up housekeeping on however modest a
scale. Thus, you yourself, my dear madam, must have perceived that I
left Miss Anna in utter ignorance of my affection for her. Whether
or not she may have suspected my passion, I do not dare to say;
but certainly I uttered no single word of love to her--"
"But Mr. van Nerekool--"
"Allow me, madam, to finish my story: certainly I uttered no single
word of love to her until this evening when, in the giddy whirl of the
dance, the secret which I had so long and so faithfully kept escaped
me. I was beside myself with joy when the first declaration of my
love was not met with a refusal. And, as a loving mother, can you now
blame me because, as we were walking together a few moments later in
this garden, I was driven, by the magic power of this lovely scene,
by the solemn quiet of this enchanting spot, and by the seductive
notes of the music which could not but find an echo in my heart,
again to declare my love? Can you blame me because, as I held in
my arms the pure angel of my dreams and clasped her to my heart,
I sealed the solemn compact of our love with a kiss as pure and as
holy--I swear it--as the angels in Heaven might interchange?"
Charles van Nerekool spoke with the fire, with the enthusiasm,
of truth. His words were nothing like the commonplaces of society,
nothing like the phrases which sound like a mere sentimental lesson
learnt out of the romantic pages of Georges Sand, of Georges Ohnet or
of Hector Malot. His words were eloquent, manly; and came from a true
and loyal heart, and they made a deep impression on the fair lady
who leaned on his arm, Laurentia--always very impressible--closed
her eyes for a moment, as if dazed by the power and purity of his
love. Had Mr. van Gulpendam ever, thought she, thus declared his love
to her--had he ever spoken of her in such terms? Alas! no; he was a man
wholly absorbed in the love of money; and--and--But she--she?--was she
free from those faults which now she looked upon with such horror in
her husband? For one single moment she was forced to confess herself
guilty, for a single moment better thoughts prevailed. But this was
only for a moment. The instant after she began to feel jealous of her
daughter. Yes, jealous and angry at the thought that Anna has succeeded
in winning so pure, so proud, so manly a love--a love which she herself
had never either felt or inspired. Moreover she put no faith in so
much purity and sincerity as the words of van Nerekool evidently
conveyed. Her very nature forbade her to do so. All affection,
all love between persons of opposite sexes was, in her estimation,
the mere expression of material passion and the consequence of carnal
desire. Purity and love were, to her, mere sounds, which, if she could
understand them at all, only served as a cloak for far different
sentiments. To her they were--they could be--nothing more. Under
the influence, therefore, of such miserably grovelling views, she
answered sarcastically: "Yes, I can understand all that! Immeasurable
bliss under the Pandan bushes! Now, Mr. van Nerekool, shall I tell
you what I think of that chaste kiss and all the rest of it?--Well,
I think that they are merely fine names for something which might
be expressed in totally different language. Why! you, as a man,
you surely must know what meaning the world attributes to a kiss!"
"Pardon me, madam," replied Charles, somewhat sadly, "I am, as yet,
very young and very inexperienced."
"Yes," said Laurentia with a mocking laugh, "I can quite perceive
that."
"Oh madam," cried the young man, "I beg you let us not waste
time in useless playing with words. Yes I am young, I repeat it,
I am inexperienced, I have but little knowledge of the sentiments
which seem to pass current in the world; feelings which appear to
be ticketed like the samples of some commercial traveller, each to
fit into their own compartment--one affection of the heart another
of the head, another of the senses. Of all this I know nothing. I
can say but one thing, I truly, and in all good faith and honesty,
love your daughter; and especially, my love for her is a pure love
in which the pursuit after pleasure has not once entered. Believe me
when I say this in all the sincerity of my heart. Such insinuations
I never expected to hear from her who is the mother of her whom I
honour and respect above all things. I love Anna with all my heart
and with all my powers, and I feel within me the glorious strength
which honourable love alone is able to impart."
These principles of the young man spoken out so forcibly and in so
manly a spirit, baffled Mrs. van Gulpendam completely. She felt at
once that it would be no use whatever to try and play any idle games
with him.
"But," said she somewhat impatiently, "what then do you want of
me?" This she asked quite forgetting that it was she who had asked van
Nerekool to give her his arm, and that it was she who had brought up
this conversation--a conversation which seemed to be turning greatly
to her discomfiture.
"I caught you," she continued, "as you were holding Anna in your arms,
in a lonely spot, and as you were pressing a kiss upon her lips. Now I
ask you, what am I to think of the vaunted purity of your love? Your
practice seems to me to be in direct contradiction with your fine
principles. I ask you again: is such conduct in any way excusable,
while the girl's parents are left in ignorance of this passion?"
"Mrs. van Gulpendam, I have tried to explain to you how circumstances
entirely beyond my control, have led me to betray my feelings. If you
will not take my word for it, then I can only lament that you, my dear
Anna's mother, have formed so low an opinion of my character. But,
much as I do regret that, such considerations can now no longer
withhold me. I have agreed with Miss Anna, that to-morrow I will ask
your leave to call upon you in order to formally make my request
to yourself and Mr. van Gulpendam, for your daughter's hand. Now,
however, let me anticipate that to-morrow and make my petition to
you here which it was my intention to lay before you to-morrow. And,
may I add to that request, the prayer that you will kindly intercede
on my behalf, with Mr. van Gulpendam?"
As he made his petition Charles van Nerekool had stopped in his walk
and had dropped Laurentia's arm, and now he was looking up into the
eyes of Anna's mother, with the beseeching look of yearning love.
Knowing the young man's character, it cannot for a moment be supposed
that he acted with any view to theatrical effect when he stopped
exactly in the centre of one of those strange shadowy glades under
the Tjemara trees. The curious light, however, surrounded his head
as with a mysterious aureola which made the finely chiselled features
of his grave countenance and his fair curls stand out to the greatest
advantage. Fair Laurentia was an excellent judge of manly beauty; and
the ardent look which she cast upon the young man, as he stood there
in an attitude of supplication before her, would have filled Anna
with dismay had she been able to see it and been able to understand
its significance.
The momentary danger, however, fortunately passed away; for the
thoughts of the practical woman were just then distracted by the
approach of two sons of the Celestial empire, who, walking in an
avenue which ran parallel to that in which she was, made the fine
gravel crunch under their curiously curved but heavy sandals.
These were babah Tang Ing Gwan the major of the Chinese troops at
Santjoemeh and babah Lim Yang Bing the opium farmer. They also had
come out to enjoy the fresh air, and were honestly confessing to each
other that, on the whole, they did not find much amusement in these
European entertainments. Said Lim Yang Bing with a most disgusting leer
to his companion, "It is only the bare shoulders, arms, &c., of the
European ladies and girls that reconcile me in any way to so tedious
a party. It cannot be denied that the creatures are well made. But
what on earth can the husbands and fathers of these things mean,
to come and exhibit them thus publicly; and then what shamelessness,
what want of modesty in those white women to show themselves thus,
Tjiss! Fie upon them!"
"Yes, indeed, Tjiss!" said the Chinese major, an elderly man who with
his long grey moustache drooping on to his breast, had a very martial,
indeed a venerable appearance. "Yes, Tjiss!" said he, "I would not
allow my wife or daughters to appear before me in such dress as that,
or rather in such undress!"
"Have you noticed the njonja toean Resident?" said Lim Yang
Bing. "She--"
"Hold your tongue!" whispered the major in a warning voice, "she is
standing just there talking to the young judge; what can she have to
say to him?"
Lim Yang Bing answered not a word; but a low cunning smile played upon
his lips. The intrigues of his son Lim Ho were perfectly well known
to him. He also remembered his conversation with the Resident--and
van Nerekool was a member of the judicial bench.
No! the njonja had heard nothing but the crunching of the gravel;
but the mere sight of these two Chinamen--and especially the sight of
the opium-farmer, which brought at once Lim Ho to her mind, and her
arrangements with M`Bok Kârijâh--caused the demon of money to triumph,
and put to silence all other passions in her breast.
"Mr. van Nerekool," said she in a gentle coaxing tone of voice,
"the Resident is not at all so badly disposed towards you as you
seem to think. But he is a man who has a great eye for all that
is practical.--Allow me to speak and do not interrupt me.--Our
conversation has already lasted too long. The world might, you
know--But no, you love my daughter do you not?"
She hesitated--she stammered, she was trembling all over. Young van
Nerekool gazed at her with a strange puzzled expression which she
seemed perfectly to understand.
"The Resident," she resumed, "will have practical men and--you
must pardon me," she continued with slight hesitation, "you must
pardon me for saying so; but you are not a practical man. No, no,"
continued she hastily, "don't look at me like that! You are moving in
a world of dreams, which is very far removed indeed from practical
every-day life. You picture to yourself an ideal world as different
as possible from the one in which we live. And, I can tell you, if
you cannot somehow or other manage to wake up out of your day-dreams,
you will be in great danger of never making any way at all in the
judicial career which you have chosen. Yours is, in sober fact,
a most prosaic career; and the one of all others, in which dreams
and fancies are utterly out of place."
Van Nerekool listened to this homily with the greatest attention
and most submissively, though he felt arising within him a nameless
feeling of uneasiness which he had much trouble to suppress.
"I am prepared to accede to your request," resumed fair Laurentia
with her most winning smile, but at the same time emphasizing every
syllable as if she counted them,--"I will speak for you, and I will
plead your cause with the Resident,--and if I once consent to do that,
Anna will be yours."
"Oh how can I sufficiently thank you," exclaimed van Nerekool, laying
his hand on his heart, as if he wished to keep down its beating.
Very little more and he would, in his transport of gratitude,
have snatched up Laurentia to his breast and covered her with
kisses. Happily, however, he restrained himself,--happily, for who
knows what effect such an act might have had upon the excitable woman.
"Be calm, Mr. van Nerekool," said she, "be calm. I am ready to
intercede for you; but then, on your part, you must make me one
promise."
"Oh speak, madam, speak--I will in every way--"
"Mr. Zuidhoorn," quietly resumed Laurentia, "is, as you may have
heard perhaps, on the point of starting for Holland to recruit his
health--I am right, am I not?"
"Very good," she continued as Charles made a gesture of assent,
"there is a case coming before the Court which I am particularly
anxious to see satisfactorily settled."
"But, madam," interposed the lawyer, "I am a member of the judicial
council and have nothing whatever to do with the lower court."
"At my recommendation," replied Laurentia, "you will, being one of the
junior judges, be appointed President of the lower court pending the
arrival of Mr. Zuidhoorn's substitute. That will be a step for you,
will it not?"
"Certainly it will," said van Nerekool, "I pray you go on."
"And--who knows?--But to come to the point. There is a Javanese
at present in custody whose name is Ardjan, the fellow has been
smuggling opium."
Van Nerekool's heart began to throb almost audibly. Of course the
mother of his dearest Anna could but wish to help this poor Ardjan
out of his trouble, and was about to call upon him to lend her his
assistance. He therefore thought that he quite spoke her mind when
he interrupted her by saying:
"Who is accused of smuggling opium, you mean, dear madam."
"That comes to the same thing," replied Mrs. van Gulpendam somewhat
tartly.
The young lawyer looked up in surprise, he could make nothing of it.
"Ardjan," continued Laurentia, again quite calmly, "is an
arch-smuggler, he belongs to a family of smugglers. Just lately--a
day or two ago--his father was caught in the act, and offered armed
resistance to the police in the execution of their duties. Such scum
as that must be severely dealt with--do you hear?"
"Yes, madam, I hear," said van Nerekool, drily, "I know that he did
offer resistance to the authorities; but--as far as opium-smuggling
is concerned--"
"Smuggling!" cried the lady, vehemently, "is theft--is theft! you know
that well enough, Mr. van Nerekool, it is stealing from the revenue,
it is stealing from the public purse."
"Most undoubtedly it is, madam; but what I wanted to ask is--Has this
case of smuggling been properly brought home to them?"
"Oh, certainly it has," cried Laurentia. "Ardjan is the guilty
man--there is no one else to suspect. Of course, I know well enough
that a conspiracy had been formed to cast suspicion upon Lim Ho,
the son of the great opium farmer. Now what an absurdity!--the son
of the farmer who, with his father, has the greatest interest in
stopping all smuggling transactions!--it is simply absurd. I know
also that in order further to prejudice Lim Ho, an accusation has been
trumped up against him in the upper court, in which he is charged with
having flogged Ardjan with Kamadoog leaves. But, of course, Mr. van
Nerekool, you will know how to tear to pieces that web of deceit
and perjury. You will know how to deal with that nest of smugglers,
and make short work of all these perjurers!"
"Madam," replied the young man, "you may be quite sure that, if I
have the honour of being appointed to the temporary presidency of
the lower court, I shall, to the best of my abilities, discharge my
duties with the strictest impartiality. He who is in the right shall
have justice; and he who is guilty, shall not evade the punishment he
deserves. I happen to know something about that smuggling business,
and also of the so-called resistance to the police of which Pak Ardjan
stands accused, and I think I can assure you that neither father nor
son is as culpable as he is supposed to be."
"What a downright simpleton the booby is," thought Mrs. van Gulpendam.
"Mr. van Nerekool," she whispered in his ear, "the Resident is quite
right--You are not a practical man."
"But, madam--"
"But remember, it is only if you follow my directions, that Anna will
be yours. You mind that!"
"But," cried Nerekool, in extreme perplexity, "what is it you require
me to do?"
"Ardjan and his father must both be transported," said Mrs. van
Gulpendam, most resolutely. "Where to?--that matters but little--to
Deli, to Atjeh--Yes, Atjeh, perhaps, would be the better place."
"They will be transported," said Van Nerekool, with equal resolution,
"both of them, if they are found guilty."
"Guilty or not guilty!" exclaimed Mrs. van Gulpendam, "you will do
as I tell you!--Or else--no presidency--You will do as I tell you--or
else, depend upon it--no Anna!"
The blood flew up into the face of the upright young judge at this
intolerable dictation. His whole mind and soul rebelled against such
gross injustice. He dropped the arm of the fair temptress, and, without
reflecting, he hissed rather than spoke in the heat of his indignation.
"Madam, I love your daughter, I dearly love Anna; but to purchase
her hand at that price--the price of my own dishonour--Never, never!"
"Never?" sneered Laurentia.
"No, madam, never, never!" exclaimed van Nerekool. "Why, she herself
would be the very first to despise and reject me, could I be guilty
of such baseness and accept so odious an offer. But," continued he,
suddenly changing his tone, "surely all this is but a jest, surely
you are not in earnest!"
"I am in right--downright earnest," said Laurentia, sternly. "It is
my last word to you--it is war or peace between us--I leave it to
your own choice."
"I would not willingly make an enemy of anyone," said van Nerekool,
very sadly; "but a clear conscience is to me precious above all
things. Farewell, madam."
He covered his face with both his hands, as he hurried from the
spot. For awhile he wandered about in the greatest excitement, seeking
the loneliest spots in the garden. Presently, however, he somewhat
recovered his composure, and, stunned by the blow that had just fallen
on him, he made his way back again to the inner gallery. There he
found Matilda van Meidema, who called to him, and said: "Mr. van
Nerekool, my friend Anna has requested me to give you a message,
it is this. Unless some means of rescue be found, Ardjan's case is
hopelessly lost. All the witnesses have either been corrupted or put
out of the way, so that his condemnation is certain."
"And from whom has Miss Anna got all this information?" asked van
Nerekool with a sad absent smile.
"She had it from me, Mr. van Nerekool," replied the young girl.
"And how did you get to know all this, Miss Meidema?" he asked.
"Why, Mr. Judge," said she, "you happen to be in a rather inquisitive
mood! I suppose," she continued with a laugh, "your curiosity is
professional. The only thing I can tell you is that I have obeyed
Anna's orders and delivered my message." Thus saying, with a curtsey
she hurried away.
Charles wandered about for a while objectless among the guests. But,
after his conversation with Laurentia he could find no rest. He
looked round for Anna; but she, as daughter of the house, had,
on the occasion of a formal party like the present, many duties to
perform. Though the young girl's face showed but little enjoyment of
the scene around her, yet it wore its usual pleasant smile. It was,
however, a forced smile which, to her lover's eye, signified nothing
else than anxiety and restlessness. At that sight all desire to remain
left him, especially as he knew that he could not venture to approach
her. So he went to look for his hat; and having found it, took leave
of the Resident and of his wife, and a few minutes after he was gone.
"Take care! Think it over well," had been Laurentia's last whispered
words as he made his parting bow.